


Cereal Lady Killer

by Bonbonbourbon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ana is a little shit, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonbonbourbon/pseuds/Bonbonbourbon
Summary: Ana is sick of Angela and Fareeha dancing around each other and decides to help through questionable means.Hint: It involves a love potion.Plot twist: It’s not used on either of them.





	Cereal Lady Killer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShintheCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShintheCat/gifts).



> This prompt come to life: http://nanoha-thankyouforbeingborn.tumblr.com/post/164549802782/what-if  
> Btw this is a light-hearted fic, so don’t take it seriously. Ana’s a little shit.

Ana sips her evening tea, letting the flavors of chamomile wash over her tongue. Of all the flavors of tea she’s tried in her lifetime, she never particularly liked chamomile for some reason. Something about the taste of these dried flowers never sat quite right with her. However today, she could do with their supposed relaxing properties.

For Ana is in a bit of a conundrum.

She patched up her relationship with her daughter only recently, and nosing into her business so blatantly once more might not be in her best interests…

However.

Ana takes another sip.

She lets the tea slosh around in her mouth for a few seconds (and cringes, chamomile truly is sub-par in her opinion) before swallowing.

Her daughter, for all her bravery and wit on the field, has been acting utterly buffoonish off the field. So has Angela; the ‘Angel of Mercy’, head of Overwatch Medical, so-called ‘Genius from the Alps’. For all her titles, as spineless as Fareeha in her personal life. And by that she meant dating life - a stab directed at the both of them. She and her daughter have been playing a silly, silly game of cat and mouse. They would flirt, they would touch, they would look at each other with hearts in their eyes, and yet when push came to shove, they would flee. Both were stubbornly unwilling to take that final leap forward and Ana is frankly over it.

Completely over watching the two of them dance around each other when happiness was just one confession away.

So again, she didn't _want_ to meddle per say (she ignores the voice in the back of her head that sounds suspiciously like Morrison that calls her out on her bluff), but wouldn't meddling in this case count as for the greater good?

Hypothetically, speaking?

Ana finishes the rest of her tea and thinks in the silence of her room. She wasn't going to do much. Truly. If she did something.

Just a small... push.

A slightly devious smile plays on her lips as she forms just the most perfect of plans. She feels excitement and amusement run an exciting thrill down the length of her body. Oh, this was perfect. Ana is glad her brain still works so well, even at 60 years old.

Was the plan a little underhanded? Maybe. Yes.

But again, it is for the greater good.

It was high-time Fareeha and Angela got the happiness they deserved.

(Of course though, no one said she couldn't have a little fun along the way)

She clicks the intercom. Athena comes to life.

" _Yes, Captain Amari?_ "

"Please do a search of love potions please."

\--------------------------

"Jack, I need access to the chemical lab. Unfettered access."

Jack is looking out the window, a hot cup of Joe in his hands. He turns, only slightly, baby blue eyes clear in view for Ana to gaze at as he observes her inquisitively. He isn't smiling, but Ana can tell he is relaxed from the slight give in his shoulders. The years have not been good on the man, but at least he was now home and surrounded by comrades once again. It has to count for something. At least, Ana liked to believed.

"Unfettered?" He questions gruffly, voice like sandpaper and years of cigarettes and ash from the battlefield. "Not unless you have a damn good reason. Some of the chemicals we have stored there are extremely dangerous or volatile."

"My daughter needs help. So hurry up and give me access so I can initiate operation Pharmercy."

"Operation Pharm- what? Ugh." He scoffs with a growl and a shake of his head, turning back to look at the view once more. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"You don't need to know, you only need to do."

"No, Ana. I'm not going to have any part of your silly plan." He growls out and then takes an obnoxious slurp of his coffee, back still turned from her as he watches seagulls fly and play in the skies. He swirls his coffee in his cup. "Stop meddling into the affairs of your daughter."

I wasn't asking, she thinks quietly as she takes advantage of his turned back to put him into a surprise chokehold.

"What the- urk!"

Jack struggles in her sleeper hold for a few seconds, before delivering a well-placed elbow jab into her kidneys and wrenching out her grasp. He turns, eyes wild, teeth bared, heaving in disbelief. The visage of a man who cannot fully comprehend what just happened, but comprehends enough to be irate.

"What the hell, Ana!? Did you really just try to choke me-"

_-Fwoop-_

"- out..."

He stares at the dart that has embedded itself into his chest, right above his clavicle. Then at her, arm still stretched out from releasing the dart. He glowers at her through half-lidded eyes and a quickly crumpling body. She stares at him unflinchingly, not a sliver of guilt or shame in her eyes.

"...Really?" he mutters out right before he falls flat onto the floor, knocked out cold by the sedative.

Ana sighs as she stares at his slackened body.

_There would have been no need to stab you if you had simply complied._

“You left me no choice, Jack.” She says as she steps over his body, intent to get to his computer. She clicks on the keyboard and navigates through protocol settings to ensure she would be left undisturbed in the chemical lab for a couple of hours. Just enough time to make what she needed for her plan. “My daughter’s love life is in jeopardy and you will not hinder me in saving it.”

Ana takes another quick glance at Jack as she waits for approval to be completed and makes a note to drag his body to lie on the couch.

He’ll probably be less mad if he woke up on upholstery than the cold hard ground.

Probably.

\-------------------------

Fareeha didn't understand how her mother roped her into this.

She did that weird word-smithing crap she has always been good at doing and suddenly, Fareeha is stuck in the kitchen in a silly get-up, about to _con_ her female colleagues into eating her mother's sudden new line of cereal.

When did she even get into cereal-making?

Fareeha adjusts the silly red hat perched on her head and feels heat come off in blushes out of her cheeks as she semi-glares at the cereal box her mother designed. The design is gaudy if anything. A generic Egyptian-esque falcon mascot printed smack dab in the middle, holding a spoonful of the cereal up and a thumbs up with the feathers of its other wing. Well, generic may be the wrong word to use, considering it has a sniper rifle slung around its shoulder.

(Is that even legal? Can cereal mascots be shouldering firearms?)

"Ana's Thetics. For women." Fareeha reads out dryly. "It's a Shot of Love."

And in brackets right under: Your ovaries will thank you.

She pours a few samples out into small little cups for her colleagues to try. They pour out easy, shaped oddly similar to bullets (once again, Fareeha questions if this would ever be FDA approved to be mass-produced for the public).

_Trust me, habibti. That way they can even take it as a literal 'shot of love'._

_You love that kind of stuff, don't you?_

Her mother sometimes... Fareeha sighs.

She's something, alright.

She could have taken that remark as a slight to her, that her mother still sees her in some regard as a child, but she knows that wasn't her mother's intentions. This is probably just her trying to appeal to her love of puns – and the worst part is, it sort of worked. Fareeha grumbles, swallows her embarrassment and loops the accompanying apron her mother made over her head (the words 'Ana-sthetian of Love' stitched on the right breast pocket). She is tying the apron strings, fastening it around her waist when she hears the jingle of spurs.

"Woah, sunshine, what's with the get-up? And what's all this? 'Ana's Thetics'..." Mccree breathes out, his southern twang slowing his words as he stares at the cereal box. He chuckles, once, shoulders raising with his huff of laugh as his eyes light up with understanding. "Oh, heh. I get it."

Mccree's grubby fingers then twiddle in the air before attempting to dive into one of the small prepared cups to pick up a little morsel of the cereal. Fareeha blocks his greed with a smack, slapping his hand away.

"Ow!" He hisses out, nursing his hand. "I only want a little bit. Don't be so stingy."

"No." She says flatly. "My mother says it'll mess up a man's body."

"C'mon. Just one?"

Fareeha glowers at him. This is her mother she's talking about. Who knows what she put in this cereal of hers. If her mother says it might ruin a man's body, she isn't going to take any chances and let Mccree pop even one piece into his mouth.

No matter how hungry he is.

Mccree moans and groans loudly as he realizes Fareeha will not budge.

"What, will it make my dick shrink or something?" Mccree gestures at his crotch with both his hands, a wild look on his face. "I mean, how else can something mess up a man's body??"

"If all it will do is mess up a man's body, then I could try a few right?"

Fareeha almost jumps out of her skin. Genji seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

When did he sidle up next to her?

Damn ninjas and their quiet steps.

"Why're you so fine if that's 'all it will do', Genji? You sayin’ you have a small dick? That it?" Mccree questions, brow raised high, to the point that it was covered by his wayward bangs. Mccree takes a puff of his cigar and blows smoke obnoxiously up into the air, pompous grin on his face. "I knew it. I always knew you had a small wiener."

Genji goes rigid. He turns to stare at Mccree.

Fareeha simply shakes her head and smacks a hand to her face at the stupidity that is her brother in arms.

Idiot.

Jesse is such an idiot.

"...Either you're being racist," He finally says, in a voice calmer than Fareeha would expect. "Or simply-" He rears his arm back- “rude.”

Genji’s arm whips like a piston as he punches Mccree hard, smacking him straight on his shoulder. His non-mechanical still flesh-and-blood shoulder, and the sound of metal hitting soft flesh reverberates. Mccree yelps accordingly and rubs at the damaged spot, hissing all the while from the pain.

“Jesus Christ, Genji.”

Genji ignores Mccree and picks up a piece of cereal and inspects it.

"I simply meant that it won't have any effect." Genji's voice becomes a whisper, melancholy lacing his tone like a layer of heavy sand. "I am already a ruined man after all."

Fareeha picks the morsel out of Genji's hand.

"But still a man nevertheless, Genji." Fareeha says kindly, with a small lift at the corner of her lips. There is no hesitance around her words. "So I think it would be best if you don't have any."

The air around Genji becomes lighter.

"Perhaps." Genji concedes, smiling softly, a quiet ‘thank you’ reflected in his eyes. "I shall wait for Ana to make a product line for men. In the meantime, it seems it is time for me to go. I must meet Zenyatta in the gardens for morning meditation. And you." He reaches out and grabs Mccree by his serape. "Come along. A little reflection time might be good for you as well."

"What? Aw hell, Genji, that was just a joke. Angela probably fixed you up with a gigantic robo-dick or something-!" Mccree squeaks out the last word as his drag out by his serape to the door becomes rougher and he is half-choked by his own cloth as it pulls against his neck. His hands wrestle the cloth to give him breathing space, and his legs kick in a futile struggle to wrench free of Genji's iron grip as he continues to drag him out. He reaches out to her dramatically with one hand. "Help, Fareeha! Help!"

Fareeha waves goodbye.

"You deserve it, Jesse." She says as she continues to wave. When they disappear out of view, her hand drops and Fareeha turns back to her tray of samples. "Now then..."

Fareeha stretches and cracks her fingers.

It was time to get to work, conning all her female teammates into trying this new cereal - as per her mother's orders.

She really hoped nothing bad would come of it.

\--------------------------

Excellent.

Better than she had ever anticipated.

Ana struggles to suppress her laughter, hiding a wide-stretching smirk with the rim of her tea cup as she takes sip after sip – a well-made cup of chai this time. She had expected Fareeha to nab maybe one or two of their female colleagues. Three if she was being generous, not the whole platoon like Fareeha had certainly accomplished. She gave her daughter too little credit she supposed, because there in front of her eating breakfast, eating _her_ cereal, is practically all the Overwatch ladies.

And judging from their reactions, it's working.

"Hey, Far!" Lena chirps out with an empty cereal bowl in her hand and jumps onto Fareeha's back, latching on like a monkey. Her face is red and Ana positively loves the slightly dazed look she has as she peers at her daughter over her shoulder. "Can I have another helping? You know I have a sweet-tooth."

Lena waves the bowl in front of Fareeha's face with one hand, while the other keeps her nestled close to Fareeha's backside.

The blush on her face unmistakable.

"Um, sure, Lena." Fareeha replies, brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden kinship (her and Lena were close, but not this close) and pours the empty bowl full once more for her. Then adds in some milk. "There you go."

"Thanks, love." Lena says and ( _oh my word_ , Ana thinks) dares to give Fareeha a peck on the cheek before dropping back down on the ground. She sees her daughter stop breathing, pupils dilating, body become rigid for one small second before she gathers her bearings once more. Confusion is scattered all over her face along with a light blush of pink across her cheeks.

From the table, all the ladies faces morphed into something close to envy.

_Oh, this was simply great._

Lena makes a point to get to her seat the long way, having to go around the table so she could cross Fareeha on the way there. So she could brush shoulders with her on the way there. She sits down with a plop and shoves the cereal into her mouth, making occasional wayward glances at Fareeha the whole while.

"Fareeha!" Zarya booms out as she rises and it makes everyone flinch. She walks over and slings an arm around Fareeha - one with an empty cereal bowl it its clutches. "Another bowl for me too! One is not enough for me."

"Oh. Okay. Makes sense." Fareeha says dumbly and pours more cereal, then tops Zarya’s bowl with more milk. "There we go."

Zarya grunts in acknowledgement, but makes no move to move.

"Uhh... Zarya?" Fareeha says softly. She juts her lips and taps the woman's forearm that hung around her with a finger. "I've finished pouring."

"... Yes. You have." Zarya agrees, but stays rooted for a few moments more, keeping her arm slung around Fareeha. "Thank you."

Then she moves away.

Fareeha blinks twice, more perplexed than ever now.

Ana on the other hand, is tickled to bits. She sets aside her tea to place her elbows on the table, then clasps her hands together and rests her chin on top of the backs of her threaded fingers. Then she starts conversation with the only other occupant in the room that wasn't eating the cereal.

"Angela, are you alright?"

Angela isn't looking at her. Instead she is looking at the scene before her, coffee getting cold, with a confused frown on her face.

Ana's smirk widens at her reaction.

"Angela, habibti?"

Angela snaps out of her funk after being called a second time. Her body is rigid, jaw set, but her eyes flicker finally to Ana's. The frown still rests on her face and so does the bleeding confusion mixed with a slight burst of annoyed jealousy in her eyes.

"What is it, Ana?" And Angela's voice is as taut as bowstrings.

She shrugs.

"You're not eating the cereal?"

"...You know I don't like cereal."

Ana chuckled, once. True, she did know that. And she also knew that all the other ladies didn't mind cereal and would have the decency to at least try a 'shot' of her cereal, letting the little concoction she mixed in it work its magic. Because the thing is, Ana is not playing fair. She mixed a little something in the cereal to make the consumer fall in love with the first person they see, and since she made Fareeha hand it out, they all fell in love with her.

Just as according to plan.

Angela not eating the cereal? Also accounted for. She needs the woman to be in clear mind.

And besides, it would have little effect. She is already in love with her daughter.

Though that is not the point.

The point is, one of them needs to grow a spine, and Ana has pushed her daughter enough in this lifetime. So unfortunately (a spark of pity welled up in her for one short moment), she decided Angela would have to bear the waves of jealousy as the whole group tries to get it on with her daughter. That is, if the concoction worked. And by god, looking at the crowd, currently eating bowls of it while sneaking peeks at Fareeha hoping their actions would please her, it worked.

She smiles as she sees Angela grip on her spoon turns knuckle white as Mei presses up against Fareeha as well to get another helping. The woman doesn’t even register that her oatmeal is spilling from the spoon right onto the table, staining the white cloth of the dining room table an ugly brown. Her gaze is transfixed at the scene before her.

 _That's it, Angela. Get jealous._  

\--------------------------

Angela does not expect the sight she's greeted with when she walks through the metal doors into the research lab. Fareeha is there for one, but she is not alone. She is sitting on a chair, leaning forwards as she converses to someone just out of view. That sparkle of discovery and interest twinkles bright in her eyes and she is smiling slightly, softening the edges of her face. That little curve of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Another voice carries through the room and it is a woman. It sounds like Ms. Satya Vaswani.

Angela crouches, not entirely sure why she doesn't just take another step and announce her presence loudly. Angela did not think of her as one to slink in the shadows, but there was something today that spurred her to do just that.

Something strange was happening. Something was up.

With all the women.

Ms. Satya Vaswani, included.

Angela creeps forward, inch by inch, fueled by a need to see more of what is happening and understand if her little feeling is spot on or was it just her blowing things out of proportion - that today the women weren't delivering Fareeha an uncanny amount of consideration. She peeks through the corner, and sees that the other occupant and the one currently occupying Fareeha's attention is indeed none other than Satya. Satya's fingers are dancing in between them, pulling at the air, shaping hard-light by the tips of her fingers into forms.

A basic triangle.

A simplistic geometrically shaped dog.

And then her fingers and arms sway, she builds layer upon layer of hard-light in front of Fareeha, and the woman is wide-eyed as Satya continues. She finishes, making an impressive miniature replica of San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge.

"Wow. Think you could teach me?" Fareeha half-jokes, tone light. "It's very impressive."

Satya's mouth curves at the corners.

"Perhaps we can spend a bit of time after-hours. I can show you a whole other reality."

Fareeha grins lopsidedly.

"Are you implying that this is nothing?"

"These have been simple parlor tricks, Fareeha." Her name rolls of Satya’s tongue for a few seconds longer than Angela’s liking. "I can do so much more."

"Is that right?"

"Of course, and I’m willing to present you an experience you'll never forget. I can guarantee that much."

Angela feels her stomach clench. She cannot help but feel that there are suggestions lacing Satya's words that indicate more than showing a few more tricks, especially when the next thing she does is conjure a rose and hands it to Fareeha, who accepts it with a smile.

"Oh that is cool." Fareeha says, waving the rose in front of her. "Then, when you're free."

Satya smiles back and delivers an agreeing nod.

"When I'm free."

Angela's mouth thins, her brows furrow and her temple starts to throb. She feels itchy, the cogs in her mind going into overdrive. Satya joined only very recently, roughly two months ago. Two and a half tops, and the woman is a hard one to read. Ethereal, calm and always in control with that cool veneer that never breaks nor falters.

A queen in another lifetime.

It’s always been difficult to discern what level-headed Satya is thinking about or what the objectives of her actions is, but as Angela continues to watch she has the most nauseating feeling that Satya is definitely _flirting_ with Fareeha. She could be wrong, perhaps misconstruing efforts to be friendlier and make solid relationships finally in Overwatch, however... Angela can't help that itchy feeling in her that this was anything but friendly.

Then again, it could be friendly.

Or it could be more, an uglier voice snips from inside her head.

Angela huffs. She really isn't sure.

But what she is sure of is that she didn't like whatever this was, one bit.

She stands up abruptly from where she is crouched.

"Hello." She says loudly, and they both turn to her. A split second surge of victory wells in Angela as Fareeha's face splits into an even more darling smile. She walks forward and behind Fareeha, curling her fingers on the shoulders of the sitting woman. She stares at Satya from her spot challengingly. "Ms. Vaswani, aren't you supposed to be helping Winston?"

She tries to keep her voice even, but she knows it must be coming slightly off, judging from the way Fareeha cranes her neck to look at her with curious eyes and a small worried furrow of the brow.

"Do not worry. I have already performed the actions he had asked me to, Dr. Ziegler. To the utmost _perfection_."

Satya delivers the words smoothly as she adjust in her seat, neatly folding her hands together and resting them on her knees. She stares at Angela with a flat stare, and Angela understands that the woman is not moving anytime soon. Her own eyes narrow. Fareeha looks back and forth between the two of them.

Athena's voice crackles through the intercom by the door, putting an end to their staring contest.

" _As right as you are Ms. Vaswani, I regret to inform you that your services are needed once more. Winston seems to have ran into yet another issue that your guidance would be most helpful in overcoming. I do apologize for the inconvenience._ "

"I see..." Satya says with a note of sourness and Angela cannot help the pleased grin on her face.

It feels like yet another victory.

Satya sighs and rises.

"Then I suppose I will be off then." As she walks away she casts a look over her shoulder. "Oh and Fareeha? My offer still stands by the way."

She flicks her fingers up, forming a few dozen snowflakes, before whipping her arm out at them with a flourish. A cascade of hard-light snowflakes comes rushing at them, sparkling beautifully in their bright vibrancy. They hover and dance around them and it feels like christmas has come early.

"Don't be a stranger."

Fareeha is grinning as she plays with the snowflakes in front of her, nodding in response to Satya’s words. When Satya leaves and the snowflakes dissipate, Fareeha leans her head back onto Angela's chest, craning her head up.

She grins toothily up at Angela.

"Weird, huh? I never thought Satya to be a talker, yet today she's been quite chatty. And her tricks are pretty neat."

"Hmm, yes." Angela mumbles back, and she cannot hide the glib tones. The possessiveness that clutches onto her. The dislike festering in her. "Weird, indeed."

Fareeha shrugs.

"Can't say I don't like this whole other side of her, though. Don't you agree?"

_No. No I don't. I don't appreciate how nice she is to you and how you seem to enjoy it._

_Because I love you, you silly girl._

She wants to say all of that. So, _so_ , badly.

But as usual, the words get caught in her throat before they ever form.

"I guess..."

\--------------------------

Fareeha gulps. She is sweating, her breaths coming out ragged, and her muscles strain from the weight of the bar on her shoulders. This is heavier than she has ever gone and the barbell seems to dig into her shoulders as she struggles to keep upright.

"Deep breaths, Fareeha." Zarya says, her breath hot near her ear. “Keep steady.”

Fareeha nods.

"Come on. Three more. You can do it."

Fareeha breathes in and out quickly, then drops to a squat again. Her quads are screaming. Zarya's grip around her tightens and she can feel every inch of Zarya pressed onto her back as she ensures that Fareeha's back does not bend and she doesn't end up with a slipped disk.

"Come on."

She does it. She struggles but she does it. Three more squats, finishing the set, then places the barbell back on the rack and collapses on the floor, her face covered in a sheen of sweat, clothes drenched. She looks at Zarya and fist-bumps her on the shoulder.

"Thanks Zarya, and uh, sorry for sweating all over you." She gasps out between breaths, seeing the sweat stains on Zarya's front. Not made by Zarya herself, but from the sweat of her backside that Zarya had been pressed up against as she made sure Fareeha stayed in form. "You worked me good, today."

"I’ll work you up a good sweat any day." She says with a grin and an odd strain in her words, "We are comrades."

Fareeha nods.

Right, right. Of course.

Still…

Zarya has always been a good training partner, no two ways about it. Good at spotting her as she tried to push her limits and giving tips to better train herself into a stronger person, but never has the woman paid this much detail to helping her. Watching her at every exercise with a vigilant eye and micro-managing even the slightest of errors (turning her hips, touching her arms to get them to the right spot).

"What's the deal, Zarya?" She says, voicing out her thoughts. "You're being nicer than usual."

"There is no deal." Zarya says as she pulls her up. Fareeha stumbles, legs still wobbly and Zarya catches her, letting the tired woman rest on her front, a steadying hand curling around her hips. "It's simply nice to see you sweat."

Fareeha laughs. "Shut up."

\--------------------------

In the distance, next to abandoned weights, is Angela. She cannot seem to rip her eyes away from the scene unfolding across the room. At Fareeha and Zarya, and their workout.

Isn’t Zarya a little too suspiciously engrossed with the 'well-being' and the 'safety' of Fareeha's exercises?

Is it _really_ necessary for Zarya to touch-correct Fareeha that much?

Angela grinds her teeth as Zarya adjusts Fareeha’s legs once again, gripping her thighs, grazing her hips and at one point having a stray hand travel dangerously close to her ass. She grinds her teeth harder. Her temples throb. Agitation swirls in her and Angela faintly wonders who was the idiot who said that exercising relieves tension and stress.

Because from the way her blood pressure is rising, they are dead wrong about that.

“One more rep. Come on. You got it. Push!”

“I’m pushing!”

Angela huffs again as she witnesses their rapport.

Her weights are still untouched.

(Needless to say, it was not a fruitful work out session for Angela that day as she spends the majority of her time keeping a close eye on Fareeha's and Zarya's joint workout)

\--------------------------

Angela sucks in a deep breath.

The breeze is gentle tonight, and it kisses Angela's cheeks softly as it snakes it way through the open air, bringing flight to fallen leaves for a few short moments before they fall back to the ground. It is nice, cool weather. Perfect for flying.

She stares up at the crescent moon above, shining brightly in the cloudless night, among a hundred glittering stars. Gibraltar, so free of pollution, allows their glory to shine and what a wonderful sight it was.

Angela stares at the door to the rooftop. Her hands grip her staff ever so tightly.

Where on earth is Fareeha?

It is unlike her to be so late, especially for their little night rendezvous, as she liked to call it. Their little training sessions at night that were simple excuses to simply fly around together in the night sky. Just them and the stray seagulls that had yet to go to sleep. These nighttime flights are sometimes the highlight of Angela's days. They felt like dreams, but better.

Angela chews her lip.

She really couldn’t wait to go up into the air today. Today had not been a good day. She had been upset. Quite upset. Perhaps it had been her imagination, but it felt like everyone had been so... touchy-feely with Fareeha. Like they all are suddenly seeing Fareeha the way she does and as selfish as it is (who wouldn't fall for Fareeha, after all?) Angela feels sour at the thought.

She didn't want to share the woman.

The worst part is, she has no right feeling this way. Her and Fareeha weren't actually an item.

Technically, anyone had the right to pursue the woman.

Angela sighs once more.

She hopes Fareeha would come soon, brighten up her mood so she could fall asleep with a smile. She looks towards the entrance to the rooftop, and a frown finds its way to her face as again, when the woman in question fails to pop out of it.

Where on earth is she?

\---------------------------

She's late. She is so late.

Angela must surely already be at the rooftop, waiting for her to come.

But Fareeha is at a loss on what to do.

Mei needed some help transporting a few boxes into the research lab and Fareeha was all too willing to help. The poor woman had no one aiding her and it wouldn't take more than a few minutes – twenty minutes tops. Plenty of time before she had to go and meet Angela.

So how on earth did this happen?

Her on the couch squeezed in between Mei and Amelie. Mei is clinging onto her, supple body pressed onto her side and Fareeha feels herself trying to control her blush as she feels Mei's... assets, being pressed unabashedly into her arm. Her hair is down (she has never seen Mei's hair down), glasses off (again, another sight she has never seen) and the woman somehow just transformed from these two small changes. She usually finds Mei to look so sweet but today, she was anything but. The woman looks seductive, with messy bangs and hooded eyes.

"Fareeha, are you alright?" A smoky voice husks out from her right. Amelie's eyes smolder as she smirks at Fareeha. She is sitting on the couch with her back on the sidearm, legs hiked up onto the seat. "Your face is a little red, _chaton_."

_Because your dress is riding up and that’s quite a bit of skin._

"No reason." She squeaks, and tries to disengage herself from Mei's grasp. "A-anyways, I really have to go-"

Her plan to escape fails as Mei's hold on her tightens and Amelie extends a foot out, dressed in six inch black satin pumps, to block her path. Fareeha gulps. She has manners, but at the end of the day she is a hot-blooded lesbian, and Amelie? Well, for all her flaws there is simply something sultry about the beautiful woman and her legs were admittedly simply divine. Amelie pushes gently on Fareeha’s front with her heeled toe, who obeys without a fight, struck by the view of long legs and black satin pumps. She is easily commanded back down on the couch.

"Stay, cherie." Amelie says, and it sounds like an order. She then adjusts to crawl closer to Fareeha. One hand lands on Fareeha's thigh, the other around her neck to play with the beads that hang from her hair. Amelie speaks inches away from her face and Fareeha can smell the wine in her breath. "After all, what's the rush?"

Amelie picks up her hand to put it on _her_ thigh. Mei presses impossibly closer on her other side.

Fareeha gulps and Amelie adopts a wicked grin. Mei is giggling.

"Stay for a while, cherie.”

\---------------------------

It wasn't her fucking imagination.

Angela stares, blood roiling. She had come down from the rooftop once it was clear that Fareeha was not going to meet her anytime soon, intent to find the tardy woman. Searching a couple rooms personally, she soon gave up trying at it alone and resorted to asking Athena where she was. To her ire, Angela had been redirected into the research lab (the incident from earlier with Satya still curdled nauseatingly in her stomach).

And when she got there, that ugly feeling came back rearing tenfold.

There in front of her, on the couch of the research lab, were a bunch of her female colleagues _clamoring_ all over Fareeha. She grits her teeth, cracking at the enamel by the sheer force of her gnashing, and her grip on her staff becomes almost painful.

"Why are they all here?"

Athena crackles in her ear through the intercom of her halo.

" _They all asked me where Fareeha was and I simply directed them here. Much like I did with you._ "

It really wasn't her fucking imagination.

Fareeha looks uncomfortable, wide-eyed and blushing with a nervous smile. She is stiff, like she wasn’t sure what to do with her body or her hands, stuck frozen in the midst of all their touches. As one of them dares to whisper something into Fareeha's ear, hand toying with the buttons of her shirt, something in Angela breaks.

_That's it._

_THAT IS IT._

Angela stalks over to where they all sat, intent to take back what is hers. Fareeha quickly notices her presence. She first smiles, all teeth and relief, before it slips and an expression more akin to realization flits across.

"Angela, I'm really sorry! I didn’t forget our meeting, but they just wouldn’t let me go and-”

She grabs Fareeha's hand.

"That's okay. Just come now."

As she pulls Fareeha up, who stares up at her looking eternally grateful, the woman is pulled back down by the rest of the ladies. Fareeha’s hand slips out of hers and as she goes to grab it once more, she feels a hand curl around her wrist, stopping her from grabbing Fareeha again.

"Did nobody ever teach you that it's nice to share?" Amelie says, and her fingernails dig into Angela's wrist like talons. "How rude of you, _doctor_."

Angela’s face darkens.

"...You will let go of me, and allow me to take Fareeha with me."

"Or what?" Zarya states from where she sits. "Dr. Ziegler?"

Angela works her jaw as she sees equally smug faces on the other girls, some trying to smother knowing giggles. As if Angela was all talk.

Why? Is it because she’s a healer? The doctor in the group?

The non-combatant support with the ‘dinky little gun’?

Now she wasn't going to kill any of them, but Hippocratic Oath be damned, because all of them were still holding onto _her_ Fareeha and Fareeha looked damn uncomfortable in their grips.

“Or this.”

Angela raises her staff and strikes.

\--------------------------------

Hell. Yes.

Ana rubs her hands together in delight from where she hid at the corner of the room.

This was _exactly_ what she was going for.

She had been tailing Angela the whole day, anticipating the moment the woman would rupture and finally do something. As day turned to night however, Ana had to admit she had started to become worried that her time in the chemical lab making the poisoned cereal was for naught. That it would not spur Angela. That it had failed in its duty in being the catalyst that Ana had purposed it for.

"Angela, stop! Love, please!!" Lena screams as she dodges another punch. "We can talk this out!"

"Yes! Calm down, Angela!" Mei yells as she hides behind the turned coffee table. "Lena is right, we can work this out peacefully!"

Luckily it seems Ana wasn't off the mark, after all.

Angela is going nuts in the room, flying everywhere as she attempts to beat everyone with her staff and the girls are dodging, hiding behind any piece of furniture or scrambling to leave the room. Her own daughter is shell-shocked, watching with a dumb look on her face at the chaos in front of her, firmly planted on her ass.

Probably not believing the sight in front of her.

World-renowned pacifist, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, literally trying to maim her female colleagues.

Satya forms a shield of hard-light and sends a few projectiles made of the bright light at Angela, who artfully spins her staff and deflects the shards. She connects a stream to Satya and pushes off the ground to help her sudden trajectory to the woman. She clicks off the stream and holds her staff up high and slams it. It breaks Satya’s shield and the woman goes blowing off a few meters back.

Satya clutches her head, wincing. “Dr. Ziegler, this isn’t you. Have mercy.”

“We’re off the clock. You’re dealing with Angela, not Mercy.” She says as she points the staff at Satya dangerously. “And she doesn’t appreciate you all making advances on Fareeha.”

“Take this!” Zarya roars from behind her.

Angela whips around. A chair is flying at her.

Zarya attempt to stop Angela's unbridled attack with a chair, throwing it straight at her in an effort to incapacitate her, fails spectacularly. Angela doesn’t flinch, she doesn’t even budge from where she is rooted. She simply cleaves the oncoming chair in half with no hesitation with a powerful downward strike of her staff. Her eyes are glinting shards of ice and Ana does not believe she has ever seen them so cold.

"Holy shit." Zarya gasps out, not fully believing what just happened. She start to double back as Angela changes targets and starts charging at her. "No! Angela- Stop!"

"NO MERCY!!" Angela screams as she swings her staff wildly one last time, finally knocking Zarya to the ground. She then turns and grabs Fareeha by the arm, pulling her up and hoisting the woman over her shoulder to carry her fireman-style. She looks around the room, pointing with her staff, waving it at everyone - all sprawled out on the ground in defeat. "And stay away from _my_ Fareeha! Got it?!"

She doesn't wait for an answer and stomps off, with Fareeha still slung over her shoulders.

\-------------------------------

" _Your_ Fareeha, huh?"

Angela does not turn. The haze of anger and white-hot jealousy had faded, leaving Angela with a crippling sense of shame and embarrassment at her actions in the research lab. She groans and covers her face with her hands.

She couldn't believe what she had done.

In front of Fareeha no less.

She hears Fareeha shift and then take steps. Soft steps that hit the concrete of the rooftop in a familiar rhythm, one that Angela knew by heart by now. The steps stop in front of her and Angela can feel the stare that Fareeha delivers in her direction. She does not remove her hands from her face.

But she does answer.

"...Would-" She swallows audibly and prays she doesn't bite her tongue- "Would that be so bad?"

She feels fingers play at her halo and unlatch it from her head. Her head lifts a fraction and she peeks through her lashes, curious as to why Fareeha had done so. She witnesses the woman turn to set the halo aside on the only table on the roof-top. A small shoddy table accompanied by two plastic chairs. She then turns back and Angela's eyes immediately flutter back down.

She stares at the ground, boring holes into it, and feels stupid and childish.

"You manhandled me like a caveman back there. Threw me over your shoulder and all like property."

Angela nods stiltedly, feeling worse by the second.

She did, didn't she?

A more terrible feeling invades her still though at the way Fareeha had skirted over her question. She knew rejection when she saw one, and what else could that be, but rejection?

She chews her lips and looks up.

"Fareeha- I-"

"I should be mad, I guess." Fareeha says, cutting her off. She pulls Angela by the waist. "But the truth is you’re not wrong, and I was actually kind of flattered."

Not... wrong? Flattered?

What?

She didn’t understand what was happening.

"I am yours. Been yours for a while, but was too cowardly to express it." She continues, with a lopsided smile, pulling her in further. "Think it's time to stop being so afraid, which is why I took off your halo. Didn't want it to get in the way."

Did Fareeha say she's hers?

Did that mean-

"In the way? Of what?" Angela whispers, not daring to fully buy into her own spreading hope.

Fareeha leans in and presses her forehead close to Angela's, and Angela has to resist closing the distance between their lips. Even now they ghost one another tantalizingly.

"Of this."

And Fareeha kisses her. Angela's eyes widen before they close, her hands draw up and she pulls Fareeha deeper by the neck, and opens her mouth. Her heart bursts, she groans, Fareeha groans and she practically melts as she hears it. They kiss and kiss and when they part, glossy eyes and heavy breathing is all that seems to exist.

Fareeha licks her lips as she catches her breath.

"Damn." She says.

And Angela could only agree. She finds her voice after a couple moments more.

"Are... Does this mean you're mine?"

Fareeha tightens her hold around her waist.

"Only if you're mine."

Angela nods, faster than she has ever done in her life ( _of course, of course, of course_ ). Her heart is bursting and her head is dizzy as she buries her head into Fareeha's shoulder. The world is spinning and what had started as a horrendous day had turned into possibly the best day of Angela's life.

Because Fareeha was hers, hers, hers.

It’s official.

(And she is so happy)

**Author's Note:**

> Ana's hand in this very strange day is revealed when Jack awakens from his forced slumber, rage in his eyes and vengeance on his mind. Needless to say, she is punished severely by Jack and all the affected ladies of this little scheme.
> 
> Hope I did the prompt justice ShintheCat. ^-^


End file.
